Chapter 21 - The Ghost of Cousin Carlo
I stood frozen on the dark marble patio, staring at the face of the man whose funeral I had attended three years ago in Long Island.
Carlo Moretti—my cousin, my childhood best friend, the man whose tragic death had triggered the bloodiest conflict in Queens history—stood alive and well before me.
He looked older, thinner, with a deep silver scar running down the left side of his neck, but his warm hazel eyes were unmistakable.
Bruno trotted forward slowly, sniffing Carlo’s boots. Then, the giant Rottweiler raised his head, let out a soft, broken whine, and leaned his heavy body right against Carlo’s legs, wagging his tail.
Carlo dropped to his knees on the wet stone, burying his face in Bruno’s fur, tears streaming down his face.
"Hey, buddy..." Carlo whispered, his voice trembling with deep emotion. "Good boy, Bruno... good boy..."
"Carlo..." I stepped forward, my hands shaking as I reached down and grabbed his shoulder. "How... how are you alive? We buried you!"
Carlo stood up, wiping his eyes, looking at me with intense affection and regret. "You buried an unidentified body that Corrado and Harris planted in my burned-out car, Gabriel. It was a setup."
Tony and Frankie stood behind me, their mouths agape in utter disbelief.
"Corrado tried to execute me three years ago," Carlo explained rapidly, keeping his voice low under the roar of the wind. "He found out I had uncovered his offshore accounts with Harlan and Chicago. His hitmen shot me three times and blew up my car. I survived by diving into the river, but I knew if Corrado found out I was alive, he’d kill you and take the house immediately."
"So you stayed dead..." I whispered, the agonizing truth washing over me.
"I went underground in Chicago," Carlo said. "I spent three years infiltrating Salvatore’s inner circle under a false identity, waiting for the right moment to destroy them all from the inside. When I heard about what happened to little Elena Vasquez... I knew the time had come."
"You were the one sending us the notes," Tony realized, his eyes wide.
"Every piece of intelligence," Carlo nodded. "The ledger, the train hit squad, the address of the Black Diamond Club... I sent it all to help you clean our house."
I pulled Carlo into a fierce, tight embrace, the weight of three years of grief melting away in the cold night air.
"I missed you, brother," I whispered.
"I missed you too, Gabriel," Carlo said, pulling back with a fierce, determined look in his eyes. "Now let's finish this. Salvatore is inside his private study on the third floor. He’s packing twenty million in cash and preparing to flee to South America on a private chopper arriving at 3:00 AM."
"How many bodyguards are left inside?" I asked, pulling my weapon from its holster.
"Ten," Carlo replied, pulling two custom pistols from his coat. "And they don't know I’m on your side."
I looked down at Bruno, who stood between Carlo and me, looking up at both of us with proud, sharp eyes.
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"The family is whole again," I said, my voice hardening like tempered steel. "Let's go get Don Salvatore."
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